sam's town
by lealila
Summary: Life's a bowl of cherries and nobody's merrier than Phineas and Ferb. Slice-of-life/brotherly fluff thing.


**_title from "sam's town" by the killers._**

**_takes place mostly between 7th grade to 10th. mentions off-screen technically non-canon character death._**

_sam's town_

_life's a bowl of cherries and nobody's merrier than phineas and ferb. _

**x**

One kid asks, "Do you always do that?"

Phineas glances at Ferb, wondering if he missed something in their conversation about the new invention they're going to build next weekend. But Ferb just shrugs. "Um, I'm not sure where you're coming from."

"Yeah, they always do that," Isabella says. "The connection these two share is unlike anything else."

Baljeet tells him and Ferb, "You two were speaking in half-syllables again."

That's nothing new; they do it all the time, usually without realizing it. Their friends are used to it—even some of the Fireside Girls, who've been around them long enough now to realize that's just who he and Ferb are. But strangers—like this kid, who's one of many who rode the ride he and Ferb built today (and Phineas feels bad for not remembering his name, but the neighborhood kids don't often speak with him and the gang unless whatever they built attracts their attention)—often don't get his and Ferb's ease at understanding one another without saying much of anything at all. Phineas thinks it's a little odd that people find his connection to his brother weird, because surely their type of connection isn't as rare as Isabella makes it out to be.

The kid nods, and then jogs over to some friends, waving goodbye.

Phineas exchanges a glance with Ferb, and he can see his own bemusement reflected in Ferb's eyes.

"Well," he says after a pause, and then nothing, because he doesn't know what to say. He's not upset or anything—and he knows Ferb isn't either—he just… doesn't understand.

Buford rolls his eyes. "It's okay, Dinner Bell. Just accept you two aren't on the same mortal plane as the rest of us."

Ferb snorts and Phineas can feel a smile growing on his face. "Whatever you say, Buford," he says, turning his attention to the now-empty Mega Awesome Wheel, which hasn't mysteriously disappeared. Which, while unusual, isn't much of a surprise since Candace is at their grandparents' house, and their inventions don't go anywhere unless their sister has seen them.

"Well, Ferb, better pack it up. Did you install the—?"

Ferb reaches into his pocket, twirling the remote that will pack up their ride. He presses the button, and all of them watch the invention fold up into it is no bigger than a shoebox—more accurately: _becomes _a shoebox.

"Nice," Phineas comments, just as Mom comes out into the backyard offering snacks.

They troop inside, and they've done this hundreds of times before, but Phineas feels like something new is upon them.

It's the middle of July, but it feels like the first day of Summer, and he just smiles and smiles, waving off Ferb's look when his smiles turn into laughter.

"It's a beautiful day, Ferb."

"Yes," he says. "Yes it is."

**i**

When Phineas first meets Ferb, he doesn't notice anything different about him—doesn't even think he _should_ notice, and when he tells Mom this, she just sort of smiles and tells him he's too good for this world.

He doesn't understand even though he thinks he should, and he wants to ask, but the bus is here and Ferb's waiting by the door, already half outside before he notices his brother is missing.

And though Ferb doesn't say the words, Phineas knows he's asking if he's coming.

"Right behind you, bro," Phineas says, and by the end of the day, he'll forget Mom's words completely.

**ii**

They have a new sub, and almost immediately, Phineas can tell this one's going to be a handful.

"Faber Fletcher?" Mrs. Banes calls out in attendance, the French name awkward in her mouth.

Long used to this routine, as soon as Ferb raises his hand (which this sub doesn't seem to like because she instructs him to speak when called on), Phineas raises his hand and informs the teacher that his brother prefers to be called "Ferb," instead of his given name. Mrs. Banes nods, but she doesn't make a note of it in the sheet—which teachers usually do, he's noticed, and at first Phineas wonders if she actually has a really good memory. But for the rest of the day, she keeps calling Ferb 'Faber'.

Ferb never says anything, but he'll curl his fingers—a clear sign of his irritation, and both Phineas and Isabella (who sits on Ferb's left) wince in sympathy.

Later, she asks Phineas if there's anything wrong with his brother.

"No." This makes the count two teachers, four subs, and one mom. He doesn't have the patience (or loyalty) to be polite.

She gives him a weird look, saying, "Well, okay dear. But if he needs to see a therapist, I know someone that your parents can—"

"Ferb doesn't need to see a therapist," he says firmly, and goes to join his brother and Isabella on the field playing soccer.

.

He tells Mom and Dad what happened during dinner, when they ask about his and Ferb's day, and the more he says, the angrier they seem to get. When he finishes, his parents are glaring furiously at each other, Candace has her mouth open in shock, and Ferb's picking at his vegetables, very determinedly not meeting Phineas' eyes.

Dinner finishes in silence and—having nothing better to do with their homework complete and uncomfortable with all the tension in the air—Phineas and Ferb go to their room hours before their bedtime.

Awkwardly, Phineas says, "I didn't mean to embarrass you."

Ferb picks up Perry, who followed them up to their room, still looking at the ground.

He hovers at Ferb's side, uneasy about the attention Ferb seems to have unwillingly received. "I'm sorry. I should have thought about—"

Ferb lays a hand on his shoulder. "Thank you."

They sleep in the same bed that night, Perry curled into a half circle between them. Ferb falls asleep almost instantly, but Phineas stays up for hours, still stupidly giddy at those words.

**iii**

Phineas says, "I don't remember my biological Dad."

It's late; Mom and Dad took a night away from home and booked a room in a hotel downtown. Candace is in her room talking on the phone with Jeremy, and he and Ferb and Perry are curled together on the floor, leaning against the couch. They finished the new Avengers movie, and now the main menu plays on endlessly, the volume turned down.

Ferb looks at his brother, and Phineas can see his own surprise echoed on his face.

"I—I mean, I _think_ I remember him, but it's like remembering a story. I remember him, but only through someone else's words." Hesitating, Phineas glances away and back again. "Do you know what I mean?"

He blinks, and for a second, Phineas thinks he's going to speak, but Ferb just sort of nods and clenches a hand in Perry's fur.

Silence reigns too long, and without preamble—feeling, almost, that he _needs_ to talk about this—Phineas says, "I love Dad. He's my _Dad_. But sometimes, I really, really want to know who my other dad was." He pauses for a breath, looking at Ferb before going on. "Mom and Candace don't really talk about him. I don't really know why—I mean, I could guess, but I still don't _know_. And I know Candace remembers him 'cause I remember one time when she slipped—I think you were out with Mom shopping or something—and she said, 'Dad loved apple pie. He used to bake it a lot when Mom was pregnant, and I remember them joking about _him_ getting the cravings instead of her.' And that was it. I asked Mom about it, but she must have distracted me with something else because I don't remember what she said and I _know_ I would have remembered anything about my dad. I just… want something of my own for him. Is that weird? Is that…bad?"

Ferb shakes his head. "No. It's not bad."

He rests his head against his brother's shoulder. Ferb throws an arm around him, pulling him close. He's quiet too long before he asks Ferb if he remembers his biological mother.

"I watched my mother die," Ferb says eventually, almost too quiet to hear. "And—sometimes I forget what she sounds like, and have to watch the tape of her and Father to remember, where they're both…." He trails off, knowing that his brother will know which tape he's speaking about.

"Is that—is that why you have the nightmares?"

But Phineas already knows—he's no expert on the subconscious brain, but the correlation between hearing his mother's voice and then remembering her death from cancer is too close for it _not_ to be a cause of his nightmares.

"Oh," Phineas says, and then, "I'm really sorry."

"Me too," Ferb murmurs, too gentle.

In the morning, Mom and Dad find them sleeping on the floor, heads resting on each other's shoulders.

**iv**

Ferb's muttering in his sleep again.

Quietly, Phineas trots downstairs and turns the kettle on. He quickly shovels some hot chocolate mix into two mugs and pours the water in once it's done, stirring it until the mix completely melts.

He trots back upstairs and, once sliding back into his room and setting the mugs onto Ferb's bedside table, gently nudges his brother awake. Perry watches him from Ferb's side, having moved over after Phineas woke up.

"Hey, Ferb. C'mon, I have hot coco."

The muttering has stopped, but Ferb's still silent for a second.

"Ferb?"

He rolls from his stomach to his side, cracking open one eye.

Grinning shyly, Phineas tucks himself under the purple blanket, leaning against the headboard. Ferb scoots next to him, taking the mug Phineas hands him once he's settled. Once they're completely comfortable, Perry climbs over to sit in Ferb's lap, offering his own sort of comfort.

"Was it your mom?"

Ferb nods, reaching over to pet Perry.

Moonlight peeks throw a small crack in the curtains. They have school tomorrow—or, well, later today—but it's a Friday which means the weekend's open up for doing something fun.

"So, Ferb," he asks, "what are we going to do this weekend?"

He grins—quick and mischievous. Gesturing at his desk where piles of blueprint lay, Ferb says, "Something _new_."

**v**

Sometimes, Phineas forgets that Ferb is actually a separate person; that they are more than just extensions of the other. He forgets that there was even a time before Ferb, though the memories are still there. Happy ones, too, filled with dancing and singing and stories of impossible ideas. But when Phineas meets Ferb, their pasts explode in on themselves, and like a star, they are born anew.

Once, Phineas told Isabella that it's all in how Ferb doesn't speak that inspires Phineas and what guides him in his wild creations. It's more than that, though—it's—it's—.

They don't need to communicate to actually communicate. Phineas can read all of Ferb's gestures and silences; Ferb only needs to glance at his brother to figure out what's going through his mind. What goes on between them: it's not noticeable until they _aren't_ together.

Their friends, of course, don't notice anything—not when he and Ferb are always together, and there really aren't any days where it's just one brother with all their friends—but when Ferb goes to Debate Camp, Phineas seems to be extra chatty, as if to make up for Ferb's absence, even if he never says anything. And the next day, when Ferb returns, Phineas turns all his attention to his brother. They sit closer that day, never touching, though it's hard to tell where one ends and the other begins.

Perhaps it's a little weird. Phineas never sees anyone else as close, and he's heard teachers talking about pushing him and Ferb towards other people to talk to, besides their friends.

But that's just how they are. They're best friends. Brothers. And nothing is ever going to change that.

**vi**

Every summer day goes like this:

Phineas says, "Ferb, I know what we're going to do today!"

They pull out the blueprint, getting immediately to work. Well: Phineas explains what he imagines and Ferb draws it to scale, practically reading his mind as Phineas doesn't need to say much for Ferb to draw what he sees.

Sometimes, he'll pause and grab Phineas' attention to a certain detail—something that doesn't quite fit, or that he wants to add. Phineas rarely (if ever) decides against whatever Ferb wants to fix. He's just better at the engineering and the like. It never bothers Phineas—it's cool that his brother is so great at it.

Today, they're making a playground so they can play an ultimate game of Lava, complete with actual fake-lava, to make it seem more real.

As they start constructing, Isabell, Buford, and Baljeet come over, eager to see what they're going to do today.

"Hey Phineas! Wha'cha doin'?"

"Hi Isabella! We're going to play Lava."

Buford takes a skeptical look at the blueprints sitting on a table, where Ferb is leaning over them. "Like at school?"

"Well, yeah," Phineas says. "But with more obstacles and puzzles and whoever's it gets a hover board so they can reach the top. Oh, and lava."

"Lava?" Baljeet asks. "Isn't that a little… dangerous?"

He shrugs. "Well, it's synthetic, so no, not really."

His friends sigh with audible relief before walking over to where the tools lie.

"So," Isabella asks, "Where do we start?"

.

They start in teams: Phineas and Ferb on one end, and Buford and Isabella on the other end with Baljeet as It. But after Baljeet tags Phineas, who then shortly tags Buford, it becomes every boy and girl for themselves. Sometimes, if they're close enough, they'll help someone out if whoever's It is about to get them, but they don't cross paths often.

When Baljeet is tagged It for the fifth time, they decide to take a break.

Which, in hindsight, is probably a good thing because not ten seconds later, a large gust of wind blows the whole playground away.

Phineas almost gets blown away, but Ferb grabs onto him before that can happen, hanging on to the back door. Isabella grabs his hand a second after, and when he doesn't see Buford or Baljeet, he looks around to find them holding the fence. Well: Baljeet hangs off Buford who hangs off the fence.

Barely thirty seconds pass before the wind dies down. Miraculously, the tree didn't get blown away.

"Huh," Phineas says, after they've dropped to the ground. "Weird."

.

Having nothing better to do, they make puppy chow and crash on the living room floor.

"Well, _I_ think that there is nothing wrong with the letter Q."

Buford shouts, "It's just a fancy O!"

Used to Baljeet and Buford's bickering, Phineas, Ferb, and Isabella just roll their eyes and go along with it.

"We don't even really need the letter Q," Buford adds.

"But we'd lose a lot of words," Isabella says. "Like 'quiet'."

"Or 'quirky'."

"Quintessential!" Phineas adds, looking at Ferb.

He looks backs; offers, "Quaesitum," and Phineas laughs and laughs and laughs.

**vii**

Phineas doesn't get romance—the kissing and the, other stuff—and when he's a little older, he thinks that means something wrong with him.

He understands _love_, of course. He loves Mom, and Dad; and Ferb, Candace, and all his friends and Perry. But he doesn't get the stuff he sees on TV, where people are attracted to someone as to where they start kissing and stuff. It's weird.

He tells Ferb this, who doesn't say anything at all.

Bordering on fear, Phineas asks, "Well?"

Ferb blinks.

"Is this—am I _normal_?"

He snorts, and if it were anyone, Phineas thinks he would burst into tears. But it's Ferb; he knows that it just means he's—apparently—missing something. "You build the impossible," Ferb says. "Nothing about you _should_ be 'normal'."

"But—"

"Phineas."

He shuts up, feeling his cheeks heat up.

"So you're not attracted to anyone, and never will be. That's okay. It doesn't mean there's anything _wrong _with you."

Phineas stares at him, stunned to brief silence. "Oh. Okay."

They sit in silence before bursting into giggles. Phineas reaches out for his brother, and Ferb answers, moving closer so that they're sitting knee-to-knee on Phineas' bed.

"Normal is boring anyways," Phineas says, and Ferb grins at him, making Phineas breathe easy again.

**viii**

Baljeet asks, "So, what is the great Phineas Flynn afraid of?"

Psychology was interesting today. They talked about fear, and how people learn them. Phineas had fun—but he doesn't really want to dwell any more on it.

When he doesn't answer, Baljeet tries to lighten the mood, joking, "You can't be afraid of anything. You're Phineas Flynn! Nothing—not even physics—stands in your way! Physics bow down to you!"

It's not funny, but Phineas appreciates the gesture of distraction anyways. He laughs; insists, "Physics don't bow down to me, Baljeet."

Baljeet just smiles and waves goodbye as they approach Phineas' classroom.

He grabs his usual seat near the front, waiting for Ferb to arrive, who's previous class is on the other side of the building. He always makes it just seconds before the bell rings. And sure enough, Ferb dashes in, almost out of breath. Taking his seat next to his brother, Ferb glances at him, almost squinting.

"What?"

"What's wrong?"

Phineas raises his eyebrows. "Uh, nothing?" And, well, that's mostly true. But his conversation with Baljeet—and talking about fear today—has brought his own fear to the forefront of his mind; it's hard not to dwell on.

Ferb doesn't believe him, of course, but their Biology teacher is calling for attention. Ferb glares at him one last time before pulling out his notebook for the lecture.

Phineas sighs, relieved that today is going to be lecture, instead of lab—he doesn't really want to talk about it. And Bio is his last class with Ferb, so that's a relief, too.

Home is another matter, though, and even with Ferb gone until dinner, with his soccer practice, there's still the rest of the evening. Still, Ferb doesn't bring it up until they're preparing for bed, and their parents are asleep.

"Earlier today…. What was that all about?"

Phineas has his back turned, fixing his covers. "Um, I'm still not sure what you mean," he says, trying to sound light-hearted.

Ferb doesn't buy it, which is no surprise, and it's times like these where Phineas is tempted to curse how close they are; how easy it is for them to read each other, even for something as simple as this—or not so simple, as Ferb would have it.

When he turns around, Ferb's leaning against his bed, arms crossed, simply waiting. He can easily see the determination though, and Phineas knows this isn't a fight he's going to win. Sighing, he sits on his bed and gives in.

"We were talking about fears is psych today. And Mrs. Leeland asked if anyone was afraid of something, and we all raised our hands. But Baljeet was surprised that I did, and after class, he asked what I was afraid of. And, well…." He trails off, not meeting Ferb's stare. "I didn't tell him, but I haven't really stopped thinking about it. And it's hard not to and I just don't—"

He stops when Ferb sits next to him, not quite touching, but close enough to make Phineas feel his presence, to close the gap if he wants to. He doesn't—not yet—but Phineas appreciates the gesture anyways.

They don't say anything for a minute or so, until Ferb speaks up.

"It's okay to be afraid of death. Mother—my mother," he adds, indicating that he speaks of his biological one, "Said that to not be afraid of death is foolish. It's not a grand adventure. It's death."

Perhaps, if he were someone else, he would take this piece of advice as a slap in the face. But Ferb _knows_ Phineas, and while they haven't really talk about their fears before (though, years ago, after Ferb had a particularly bad nightmare about his biological mother, he had said—in a fit of panic—that he didn't want to be alone. After calming down, he asked if Phineas was afraid of anything—perhaps worried of being alone—and Phineas told him. They haven't talked about it since.), it's not surprising that Ferb would know exactly what to say.

He leans over, resting his head on his brother's shoulder. "Well," he says after a moment, "That's reassuring."

Ferb snorts softly, and just like that, Phineas' world falls back into place.

**ix**

"Race you to the park!"

They laugh and shout and joke all the way there, eyes open and bright. It's not often it's just him and Ferb, and while he loves his friends, these days are some of his favorites.

It's a tie, and at the end, they're lying on the grass, looking up at the clouds, a slight hitch in their breath.

"I don't know Ferb, I still think I won."

He snorts and gives Phineas a fond look. "In your dreams," he says, laughing.

They sit in silence, just enjoying the weather until they hear the unmistakable jingle of the ice cream cart. Immediately, Ferb perks up, sitting up on his elbows. Phineas always finds his brother's love for ice cream amusing, usually exactly for this reason.

He looks over at him, almost pleading to get some.

"Yes, alright," Phineas laughs, and stands up, grabbing his bike and walking over. Ferb follows him eagerly on his roller skates, and Phineas swears he can almost _hear_ Ferb shouting in excitement.

Within minutes, he and Ferb are gobbling down a strawberry and chocolate cone respectively, washing it down with a shared cherry soda.

"Delicious," Phineas says, and Ferb nods, a small smile on his face.

It's barely noon, and Mom said they don't have to be back until dinner, at six tonight. The whole day is open to them, and for the first time in weeks, Phineas doesn't have anything specific planned. Today is just a day to do whatever he and Ferb want to do, whatever that may be.

"So, Ferb," Phineas asks, a wide grin on his face, "What are we going to do next?"

He grins just as wide, and, eyes dancing, says, "Everything."


End file.
